His fingers brushed my hand. “Things have really changed.”
“Yeah,” I said, and then I reached out and patted the back tire of my bike. “Charlie used to like me. I
hope Billy doesn’t say anything about today. . . .” I bit my lip.
“He won’t. He doesn’t get worked up about things the way Charlie does. Hey, I never did apologize
officially for that stupid move with the bike. I’m real sorry about ratting you out to Charlie. I wish I hadn’t.”
I rolled my eyes. “Me, too.”
“I’m really, really sorry.”
He looked at me hopefully, his wet, tangled black hair sticking up in every direction around his pleading
face.
“Oh, fine! You’re forgiven.”
“Thanks, Bells!”
We grinned at each other for a second, and then his face clouded over.
“You know that day, when I brought the bike over . . . I’ve been wanting to ask you something,” he said
slowly. “But also . . . not wanting to.”
I held very still — a reaction to stress. It was a habit I’d picked up from Edward.
“Were you just being stubborn because you were mad at me, or were you really serious?” he whispered.
“About what?” I whispered back, though I was sure I knew what he meant.
He glared at me. “You know. When you said it was none of my business . . . if — if he bit you.” He
cringed visibly at the end.
“Jake . . .” My throat felt swollen. I couldn’t finish.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Were you serious?”
He was trembling just slightly. His eyes stayed closed.
“Yes,” I whispered.
Jacob inhaled, slow and deep. “I guess I knew that.”
I stared at his face, waiting for his eyes to open.
“You know what this will mean?” He demanded suddenly. “You do understand that, don’t you? What will
happen if they break the treaty?”
“We’ll leave first,” I said in a small voice.
His eyes flashed open, their black depths full of anger and pain. “There wasn’t a geographic limit to the
treaty, Bella. Our great-grandfathers only agreed to keep the peace because the Cullens swore that they were
different, that humans weren’t in danger from them. They promised they would never kill or change anyone
ever again. If they go back on their word, the treaty is meaningless, and they are no different than any other
vampires. Once that’s established, when we find them again —”
“But, Jake, didn’t you break the treaty already?” I asked, grasping at straws. “Wasn’t part of it that you
not tell people about the vampires? And you told me. So isn’t the treaty sort of moot, anyhow?”
Jacob didn’t like the reminder; the pain in his eyes hardened into animosity. “Yeah, I broke the treaty —
back before I believed any of it. And I’m sure they were informed of that.” He glared sourly at my forehead,
not meeting my shamed gaze. “But it’s not like that gives them a freebie or anything. There’s no fault for a
fault. They have only one option if they object to what I did. The same option we’ll have when they break the
treaty: to attack. To start the war.”
He made it sound so inevitable. I shuddered.
“Jake, it doesn’t have to be that way.”
His teeth ground together. “It is that way.”
The silence after his declaration felt very loud.
“Will you never forgive me, Jacob?” I whispered. As soon as I said the words, I wished I hadn’t. I didn’t
want to hear his answer.
“You won’t be Bella anymore,” he told me. “My friend won’t exist. There’ll be no one to forgive.”
“That sounds like a no,” I whispered.
We faced each other for an endless moment.
“Is this goodbye then, Jake?”
He blinked rapidly, his fierce expression melting in surprise. “Why? We still have a few years. Can’t we be
friends until we’re out of time?”
“Years? No, Jake, not years.” I shook my head, and laughed once without humor. “Weeks is more
accurate.”
I was not expecting his reaction.
He was suddenly on his feet, and there was a loud pop as the soda can exploded in his hand. Soda flew
everywhere, soaking me, like it was spraying from a hose.
“Jake!” I started to complain, but I fell silent when I realized that his whole body was quivering with anger.
He glared at me wildly, a growling sound building in his chest.
I froze in place, too shocked to remember how to move.
The shaking rolled through him, getting faster, until it looked like he was vibrating. His shape blurred. . . .
And then Jacob gritted his teeth together, and the growling stopped. He squeezed his eyes tight in
concentration; the quivering slowed until only his hands were shaking.
“Weeks,” Jacob said in a flat monotone.
I couldn’t respond; I was still frozen.
He opened his eyes. They were beyond fury now.
“He’s going to change you into a filthy bloodsucker in just a few weeks!” Jacob hissed through his teeth.
Too stunned to take offense at his words, I just nodded mutely.
His face turned green under the russet skin.
“Of course, Jake,” I whispered after a long minute of silence. “He’s seventeen, Jacob. And I get closer to
nineteen every day. Besides, what’s the point in waiting? He’s all I want. What else can I do?”
I’d meant that as a rhetorical question.
His words cracked like snaps of a whip. “Anything. Anything else. You’d be better off dead. I’d rather
you were.”
I recoiled like he’d slapped me. It hurt worse than if he had.
And then, as the pain shot through me, my own temper burst into flame.
“Maybe you’ll get lucky,” I said bleakly, lurching to my feet. “Maybe I’ll get hit by a truck on my way
back.”
I grabbed my motorcycle and pushed it out into the rain. He didn’t move as I passed him. As soon as I
was on the small, muddy path, I climbed on and kicked the bike to life. The rear tire spit a fountain of mud
toward the garage, and I hoped that it hit him.
I got absolutely soaked as I sped across the slick highway toward the Cullens’ house. The wind felt like it
was freezing the rain against my skin, and my teeth were chattering before I was halfway there.
Motorcycles were too impractical for Washington. I would sell the stupid thing first chance I got.
I walked the bike into the Cullens’ cavernous garage and was unsurprised to find Alice waiting for me,
perched lightly on the hood of her Porsche. Alice stroked the glossy yellow paint.
“I haven’t even had a chance to drive it.” She sighed.
“Sorry,” I spit through my rattling teeth.
“You look like you could use a hot shower,” she said, offhand, as she sprang lightly to her feet.
“Yep.”
She pursed her lips, taking in my expression carefully. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Nope.”
She nodded in assent, but her eyes were raging with curiosity.
“Do you want to go to Olympia tonight?”
“Not really. Can’t I go home?”
She grimaced.
“Never mind, Alice,” I said. “I’ll stay if it makes things easier for you.”
“Thanks,” she sighed in relief.
I went to bed early that night, curling up on his sofa again.
It was still dark when I woke. I was groggy, but I knew it wasn’t near morning yet. My eyes closed, and I
stretched, rolling over. It took me a second before I realized that the movement should have dumped me onto
the floor. And that I was much too comfortable.
I rolled back over, trying to see. It was darker than last night — the clouds were too thick for the moon to
shine through.
“Sorry,” he murmured so softly that his voice was part of the darkness. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
I tensed, waiting for the fury — both his and mine — but it was only quiet and calm in the darkness of his
room. I could almost taste the sweetness of reunion in the air, a separate fragrance from the perfume of his
breath; the emptiness when we were apart left its own bitter aftertaste, something I didn’t consciously notice
until it was removed.
There was no friction in the space between us. The stillness was peaceful — not like the calm before the
tempest, but like a clear night untouched by even the dream of a storm.
And I didn’t care that I was supposed to be angry with him. I didn’t care that I was supposed to be angry
with everyone. I reached out for him, found his hands in the darkness, and pulled myself closer to him. His
arms encircled me, cradling me to his chest. My lips searched, hunting along his throat, to his chin, till I finally
found his lips.
Edward kissed me softly for a moment, and then he chuckled.
“I was all braced for the wrath that was going to put grizzlies to shame, and this is what I get? I should
infuriate you more often.”
“Give me a minute to work up to it,” I teased, kissing him again.
“I’ll wait as long as you want,” he whispered against my lips. His fingers knotted in my hair.
My breath was becoming uneven. “Maybe in the morning.”
“Whatever you prefer.”
“Welcome home,” I said while his cold lips pressed under my jaw. “I’m glad you came back.”
“That’s a very good thing.”
“Mmm,” I agreed, tightening my arms around his neck.
His hand curved around my elbow, moving slowly down my arm, across my ribs and over my waist,
tracing along my hip and down my leg, around my knee. He paused there, his hand curling around my calf. He
pulled my leg up suddenly, hitching it around his hip.
I stopped breathing. This wasn’t the kind of thing he usually allowed. Despite his cold hands, I felt
suddenly warm. His lips moved in the hollow at the base of my throat.
“Not to bring on the ire prematurely,” he whispered, “but do you mind telling me what it is about this bed
that you object to?”
Before I could answer, before I could even concentrate enough to make sense of his words, he rolled to
the side, pulling me on top of him. He held my face in his hands, angling it up so that his mouth could reach my
throat. My breathing was too loud — it was almost embarrassing, but I couldn’t care quite enough to be
ashamed.
“The bed?” he asked again. “I think it’s nice.”
“It’s unnecessary,” I managed to gasp.
He pulled my face back to his, and my lips shaped themselves around his. Slowly this time, he rolled till he
hovered over me. He held himself carefully so that I felt none of his weight, but I could feel the cool marble of
his body press against mine. My heart was hammering so loudly that it was hard to hear his quiet laughter.
“That’s debatable,” he disagreed. “This would be difficult on a couch.”
Cold as ice, his tongue lightly traced the shape of my lips.
My head was spinning — the air was coming too fast and shallow.
“Did you change your mind?” I asked breathlessly. Maybe he’d rethought all his careful rules. Maybe
there was more significance to this bed than I’d originally guessed. My heart pounded almost painfully as I
waited for his answer.
Edward sighed, rolling back so that we were on our sides again.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Bella,” he said, disapproval strong in his voice — clearly, he understood what I
meant. “I was just trying to illustrate the benefits of the bed you don’t seem to like. Don’t get carried away.”
“Too late,” I muttered. “And I like the bed,” I added.
“Good.” I could hear the smile in his voice as he kissed my forehead. “I do, too.”
“But I still think it’s unnecessary,” I continued. “If we’re not going to get carried away, what’s the point?”
He sighed again. “For the hundredth time, Bella — it’s too dangerous.”
“I like danger,” I insisted.
“I know.” There was a sour edge to his voice, and I realized that he would have seen the motorcycle in the
garage.
“I’ll tell you what’s dangerous,” I said quickly, before he could move to a new topic of discussion. “I’m
going to spontaneously combust one of these days — and you’ll have no one but yourself to blame.”
He started to push me away.
“What are you doing?” I objected, clinging to him.
“Protecting you from combustion. If this too much for you. . . .”
“I can handle it,” I insisted.
He let me worm myself back into the circle of his arms.
“I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make you unhappy. That wasn’t
nice.”
“Actually, it was very, very nice.”
He took a deep breath. “Aren’t you tired? I should let you sleep.”
“No, I’m not. I don’t mind if you want to give me the wrong impression again.”
“That’s probably a bad idea. You’re not the only one who gets carried away.”
“Yes, I am,” I grumbled.
He chuckled. “You have no idea, Bella. It doesn’t help that you are so eager to undermine my self-
control, either.”
“I’m not going to apologize for that.”
“Can I apologize?”
“For what?”
“You were angry with me, remember?”
“Oh, that.”
“I’m sorry. I was wrong. It’s much easier to have the proper perspective when I have you safely here.”
His arms tightened around me. “I go a little berserk when I try to leave you. I don’t think I’ll go so far again.
It’s not worth it.”
I smiled. “Didn’t you find any mountain lions?”
“Yes, I did, actually. Still not worth the anxiety. I’m sorry I had Alice hold you hostage, though. That was
a bad idea.”
“Yes,” I agreed.
“I won’t do it again.”
“Okay,” I said easily. He was already forgiven. “But slumber parties do have their advantages. . . .” I
curled myself closer to him, pressing my lips into the indentation over his collarbone. “You can hold me
hostage any time you want.”
“Mmm,” he sighed. “I may take you up on that.”
“So is it my turn now?”
“Your turn?” his voice was confused.
“To apologize.”
“What do you have to apologize for?”
“Aren’t you mad at me?” I asked blankly.
“No.”
It sounded like he really meant it.
I felt my eyebrows pull together. “Didn’t you see Alice when you got home?”
“Yes — why?”
“Are you going to take her Porsche back?”
“Of course not. It was a gift.”
I wished I could see his expression. His voice sounded as if I’d insulted him.
“Don’t you want to know what I did?” I asked, starting to be puzzled by his apparent lack of concern.
I felt him shrug. “I’m always interested in everything you do — but you don’t have to tell me unless you
want to.”
“But I went to La Push.”
“I know.”
“And I ditched school.”
“So did I.”
I stared toward the sound of his voice, tracing his features with my fingers, trying to understand his mood.
“Where did all this tolerance come from?” I demanded.
He sighed.
“I decided that you were right. My problem before was more about my . . . prejudice against werewolves
than anything else. I’m going to try to be more reasonable and trust your judgment. If you say it’s safe, then I’ll
believe you.”
“Wow.”
“And . . . most importantly . . . I’m not willing to let this drive a wedge between us.”
I rested my head against his chest and closed my eyes, totally content.
“So,” he murmured in a casual tone. “Did you make plans to go back to La Push again soon?”
I didn’t answer. His question brought back the memory of Jacob’s words, and my throat was suddenly
tight.
He misread my silence and the tension in my body.
“Just so that I can make my own plans,” he explained quickly. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to
hurry back because I’m sitting around waiting for you.”
“No,” I said in a voice that sounded strange to me. “I don’t have plans go back.”
“Oh. You don’t have to do that for me.”
“I don’t think I’m welcome anymore,” I whispered.
“Did you run over someone’s cat?” he asked lightly. I knew he didn’t want to force the story out of me,
but I could hear the curiosity burning behind his words.
“No.” I took a deep breath, and then mumbled quickly through the explanation. “I thought Jacob would
have realized . . . I didn’t think it would surprise him.”
Edward waited while I hesitated.
“He wasn’t expecting . . . that it was so soon.”
“Ah,” Edward said quietly.
“He said he’d rather see me dead.” My voice broke on the last word.
Edward was too still for a moment, controlling whatever reaction he didn’t want me to see.
Then he crushed me gently to his chest. “I’m so sorry.”
“I thought you’d be glad,” I whispered.
“Glad over something that’s hurt you?” he murmured into my hair. “I don’t think so, Bella.”
I sighed and relaxed, fitting myself to the stone shape of him. But he was motionless again, tense.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“It’s nothing.”
“You can tell me.”
He paused for a minute. “It might make you angry.”
“I still want to know.”
He sighed. “I could quite literally kill him for saying that to you. I want to.”
I laughed halfheartedly. “I guess it’s a good thing you’ve got so much self-control.”
“I could slip.” His tone was thoughtful.
“If you’re going to have a lapse in control, I can think of a better place for it.” I reached for his face, trying
to pull myself up to kiss him. His arms held me tighter, restraining.
He sighed. “Must I always be the responsible one?”
I grinned in the darkness. “No. Let me be in charge of responsibility for a few minutes . . . or hours.”
“Goodnight, Bella.”
“Wait — there was something else I wanted to ask you about.”
“What’s that?”
“I was talking to Rosalie last night. . . .”
His body tensed again. “Yes. She was thinking about that when I got in. She gave you quite a lot to
consider, didn’t she?”
His voice was anxious, and I realized that he thought I wanted to talk about the reasons Rosalie’d given
me for staying human. But I was interested in something much more pressing.
“She told me a little bit . . . about the time your family lived in Denali.”
There was a short pause; this beginning took him by surprise. “Yes?”
“She mentioned something about a bunch of female vampires . . . and you.”
He didn’t answer, though I waited for a long moment.
“Don’t worry,” I said, after the silence had grown uncomfortable. “She told me you didn’t . . . show any
preference. But I was just wondering, you know, if any of them had. Shown a preference for you, I mean.”
Again he said nothing.
“Which one?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual, and not quite managing. “Or was there more than
one?”
No answer. I wished I could see his face, so I could try to guess what this silence meant.
“Alice will tell me,” I said. “I’ll go ask her right now.”
His arms tightened; I was unable to squirm even an inch away.
“It’s late,” he said. His voice had a little edge to it that was something new. Sort of nervous, maybe a little
embarrassed. “Besides, I think Alice stepped out. . . .”
“It’s bad,” I guessed. “It’s really bad, isn’t it?” I started to panic, my heart accelerating as I imagined the
gorgeous immortal rival I’d never realized I had.
“Calm down, Bella,” he said, kissing the tip of my nose. “You’re being absurd.”
“Am I? Then why won’t you tell me?”
“Because there’s nothing to tell. You’re blowing this wildly out of proportion.”
“Which one?” I insisted.
He sighed. “Tanya expressed a little interest. I let her know, in a very courteous, gentlemanly fashion, that
I did not return that interest. End of story.”
I kept my voice as even as possible. “Tell me something — what does Tanya look like?”
“Just like the rest of us — white skin, gold eyes,” he answered too quickly.
“And, of course, extraordinarily beautiful.”
I felt him shrug.
“I suppose, to human eyes,” he said, indifferent. “You know what, though?”
“What?” My voice was petulant.
He put his lips right to my ear; his cold breath tickled. “I prefer brunettes.”
“She’s a blonde. That figures.”
“Strawberry blonde — not at all my type.”
I thought about that for a while, trying to concentrate as his lips moved slowly along my cheek, down my
throat, and back up again. He made the circuit three times before I spoke.
“I guess that’s okay, then,” I decided.
“Hmm,” he whispered against my skin. “You’re quite adorable when you’re jealous. It’s surprisingly
enjoyable.”
I scowled into the darkness.
“It’s late,” he said again, murmuring, almost crooning now, his voice smoother than silk. “Sleep, my Bella.
Dream happy dreams. You are the only one who has ever touched my heart. It will always be yours. Sleep,
my only love.”
He started to hum my lullaby, and I knew it was only a matter of time till I succumbed, so I closed my
eyes and snuggled closer into his chest.
9. TARGET
ALICE DROPPED ME OFF IN THE MORNING, IN KEEPING with the slumber party charade. It wouldn’t be long
until Edward showed up, officially returning from his “hiking” trip. All of the pretenses were starting to wear on
me. I wouldn’t miss this part of being human.
Charlie peeked through the front window when he heard me slam the car door. He waved to Alice, and
then went to get the door for me.
“Did you have fun?” Charlie asked.
“Sure, it was great. Very . . . girlie.”
I carried my stuff in, dumped it all at the foot of the stairs, and wandered into the kitchen to look for a
snack.
“You’ve got a message,” Charlie called after me.
On the kitchen counter, the phone message pad was propped up conspicuously against a saucepan.
Jacob called, Charlie had written.
He said he didn’t mean it, and that he’s sorry. He wants you to call him. Be nice and give him a
break. He sounded upset.
I grimaced. Charlie didn’t usually editorialize on my messages.
Jacob could just go ahead and be upset. I didn’t want to talk to him. Last I’d heard, they weren’t big on
allowing phone calls from the other side. If Jacob preferred me dead, then maybe he should get used to the
silence.
My appetite evaporated. I turned an about face and went to put my things away.
“Aren’t you going to call Jacob?” Charlie asked. He was leaning around the living room wall, watching me
pick up.
“No.”
I started up the stairs.
“That’s not very attractive behavior, Bella,” he said. “Forgiveness is divine.”
“Mind your own business,” I muttered under my breath, much too low for him to hear.
I knew the laundry was building up, so after I put my toothpaste away and threw my dirty clothes in the
hamper, I went to strip Charlie’s bed. I left his sheets in a pile at the top of the stairs and went to get mine.
I paused beside the bed, cocking my head to the side.
Where was my pillow? I turned in a circle, scanning the room. No pillow. I noticed that my room looked
oddly tidy. Hadn’t my gray sweatshirt been draped over the low bedpost on the footboard? And I would
swear there had been a pair of dirty socks behind the rocking chair, along with the red blouse I’d tried on two
mornings ago, but decided was too dressy for school, hanging over the arm. . . . I spun around again. My
hamper wasn’t empty, but it wasn’t overflowing, the way I thought it had been.
Was Charlie doing laundry? That was out of character.
“Dad, did you start the wash?” I shouted out my door.
“Um, no,” he shouted back, sounding guilty. “Did you want me to?”
“No, I got it. Were you looking for something in my room?”
“No. Why?”
“I can’t find . . . a shirt. . . .”
“I haven’t been in there.”
And then I remembered that Alice had been here to get my pajamas. I hadn’t noticed that she’d borrowed
my pillow, too — probably since I’d avoided the bed. It looked like she had cleaned while she was passing
through. I blushed for my slovenly ways.
But that red shirt really wasn’t dirty, so I went to save it from the hamper.
I expected to find it near the top, but it wasn’t there. I dug through the whole pile and still couldn’t find it. I
knew I was probably getting paranoid, but it seemed like something else was missing, or maybe more than one
something. I didn’t even have half a load here.
I ripped my sheets off and headed for the laundry closet, grabbing Charlie’s on the way. The washing
machine was empty. I checked the dryer, too, half-expecting to find a washed load waiting for me, courtesy of
Alice. Nothing. I frowned, mystified.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Charlie yelled.
“Not yet.”
I went back upstairs to search under my bed. Nothing but dust bunnies. I started to dig through my
dresser. Maybe I’d put the red shirt away and forgotten.
I gave up when the doorbell rang. That would be Edward.
“Door,” Charlie informed me from the couch as I skipped past him.
“Don’t strain yourself, Dad.”
I pulled the door open with a big smile on my face.
Edward’s golden eyes were wide, his nostrils flared, his lips pulled back over his teeth.
“Edward?” My voice was sharp with shock as I read his expression. “What —？”
He put his finger to my lips. “Give me two seconds,” he whispered. “Don’t move.”
I stood frozen on the doorstep and he . . . disappeared. He moved so quickly that Charlie wouldn’t even
have seen him pass.
Before I could compose myself enough to count to two, he was back. He put his arm around my waist
and pulled me swiftly toward the kitchen. His eyes darted around the room, and he held me against his body
as if he were shielding me from something. I threw a glance toward Charlie on the couch, but he was
studiously ignoring us.
“Someone’s been here,” he murmured in my ear after he pulled me to the back of the kitchen. His voice
was strained; it was difficult to hear him over the thumping of the washing machine.
“I swear that no werewolves —” I started to say.
“Not one of them,” he interrupted me quickly, shaking his head. “One of us.”
His tone made it clear that he didn’t mean a member of his family.
I felt the blood empty from my face.
“Victoria?” I choked.
“It’s not a scent I recognize.”
“One of the Volturi,” I guessed.
“Probably.”
“When?”
“That’s why I think it must have been them — it wasn’t long ago, early this morning while Charlie was
sleeping. And whoever it was didn’t touch him, so there must have been another purpose.”
“Looking for me.”
He didn’t answer. His body was frozen, a statue.
“What are you two hissing about in here?” Charlie asked suspiciously, rounding the corner with an empty
popcorn bowl in his hands.
I felt green. A vampire had been in the house looking for me while Charlie slept. Panic overwhelmed me,
closed my throat. I couldn’t answer, I just stared at him in horror.
Charlie’s expression changed. Abruptly, he was grinning. “If you two are having a fight . . . well, don’t let
me interrupt.”
Still grinning, he put his bowl in the sink and sauntered out of the room.
“Let’s go,” Edward said in a low hard voice.
“But Charlie!” The fear was squeezing my chest, making it hard to breathe.
He deliberated for a short second, and then his phone was in his hand.
“Emmett,” he muttered into the receiver. He began talking so fast that I couldn’t understand the words. It
was over in half a minute. He started pulling me toward the door.
“Emmett and Jasper are on their way,” he whispered when he felt my resistance. “They’ll sweep the
woods. Charlie is fine.”
I let him drag me along then, too panicked to think clearly. Charlie met my frightened eyes with a smug
